I read to page 300 or so of Craig Silvey's 2009 novel, Jasper Jones, and then set it aside in anticipation of this production. No easy thing to do. Silvey's story of a smart young kid in a dead-end town is, among other things, a very compelling whodunit.

Advertisement

Made for Perth's Barking Gecko Theatre Company in 2014, Kate Mulvany's two-act stage adaptation of Jasper Jones retains the propulsive, page-turning feel of its source, condensed, of course, but not feeling – until the final passage, perhaps – crunched.

It's the summer of 1965. The Vietnam War is rumbling ominously in the background. The Menzies government's National Service Scheme is under way and already making itself felt among the young men of the fictional town of Corrigan, Western Australia. In far-away Melbourne, Doug Walters prepares to make his Test debut.

For 14-year-old loner Charlie Bucktin​ (Tom Conroy), all this is of passing interest.

Bookish and bullied, he copes with life in Corrigan by escaping into the novels his father gives him. That is, until Jasper Jones (Guy Simon), the mixed-race town scapegoat, taps on the window of Charlie's bedroom one hot night.

Charlie has to come with him, Jasper says, to a secret refuge in the bush beyond town. There is something terrible there and Charlie must bare witness to it.

Intrigued and flattered, Charlie clambers out into the night and into an adventure far darker than anything he has encountered in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn or To Kill a Mockingbird.

Mulvany's adaptation is written for six actors juggling a dozen or so characters. Quick transitions and seamless flow are crucial to its success and, for the most part, director Anne-Louise Sarks' production unfolds the story clearly and smoothly.

Michael Hankin's​ thoughtful design distils the story's locations into a pair of moveable, reversible front porches that serve as Charlie's house, neighbouring friend Jeffrey's place, and the decrepit home of Corrigan's very own Boo Radley, "Mad Jack" Lionel. The set's constant is a large ghost gum, whose limbs and branches snake their way into Matt Scott's lighting grid.

The only notable glitch lies in Sarks' decision to play Charlie and Jeffrey's Superman v Batman argument among the audience with the actors tossing a cricket ball back and forth. A relationship-defining game of one-upmanship was reduced to a predictable chaos of dropped catches and fumbled lines on opening night.

Fans of the book will be glad to hear that Silvey's 25-page cricket scene (in which Jeffrey – warmly played by Charles Wu – turns the tables on Corrigan's bigots) is all there and cleverly staged.

Aided by costume designer Mel Page's shortie pyjamas and mid-1960s casual wear, Conroy easily sheds a decade or so to play Charlie. We warm to him immediately. He's matched by Simon, whose fierce yet fragile Jasper quickens the pulse of the play whenever he appears.

I finished the book off this morning, just before writing this review. I think Mulvany has done a fine job in creating a play that stands on its own feet, though I do feel slightly cheated of the fiery, cleansing climax Silvey has provided his readers.

But whether you know the book or not, this piercing adaptation is very much worth seeing for the way it depicts – and shows ways across – some of the deep and enduring divides in our society. There is some strong stuff in this play (a hanging corpse, some graphic descriptions of violence), but if you have youngsters aged 13 and up, don't hesitate to bring them.